Draco Flavus Nunquam Male Iudicandus
by Mary-Lou1
Summary: Goblet of Fire and beyond told from Draco's P.O.V. Will later contain SLASH of the DM/HP variety.
1. The Dark Mark

OK, my Latin sucks (I only did it for 6 months, but I still got a C at GCSE) the title should be 'never underestimate a blond dragon' - basic rip off of the Hogwarts' motto - if anyone knows the proper Latin, I'd like to know it. Cheers.

Disclaimers: I don't own Harry Potter, it's owned by J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury, Warner Bros and whoever else managed to snag the merchandising rights. Any quotations from the book _Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire_ lifted and used without permission. 

Author's notes:   
1) This will later contain SLASH, as in boy/boy, male/male relationships. If you don't like this, don't read this and don't flame me either (you were warned, after all).   
2) Starts from Chapter 9 (The Dark Mark) of _ Goblet of Fire _ and continues from there, so SPOILERS for _ Goblet of Fire_.   
3) It's told in Draco's POV, and I've taken a few liberties with his magical abilities to fit my plot. Just read on, you'll see...

"Draco! Draco, wake up!"

"Wassat?" 

I rolled over, blinking up at my mother. She was hovering over me, pale and panicked. Oh boy, what had Lucius done this time?

"Get up, get dressed and get out," she said.

"Huh?"

"Go and hide in the forest," she said. "Hurry!"

"What's going on?"

"Your father and some of his friends have had a bit too much to drink and - "

"Shit."

"Watch your language," she said, almost absently. I scrambled out of my sleeping bag and grabbed my Muggle clothes: black shirt, jeans and shit kicker boots. If I had to dress up like a Muggle, I might as well look good doing it.

"Where is he?" I asked as I did up the final buckle on my boots.

"I don't know," Mother said, playing with a strand of her hair. "He's so foolish, there must be a hundred Ministry officials here. If he's caught..."

"He won't be," I said, putting a hand on her shoulder. "He's probably doing it because there are so many officials here. He's showing off."

I turned and pulled my coat on; it was one of those long black ones that billow out behind you as you walk.

"What're they doing? Why do I have to go?" I asked.

"They're out of control," she said. "You might be hurt accidentally."

I nodded, adding as an afterthought, "are you coming with me?"

"No," she said. "I'll keep an eye on your father, but I'll feel better if you're out of the way. Safe."

I nodded again, squeezed her shoulder and left, running out of the tent and across the field to the forest. It was pitch black, and we were out in the country so you could see thousands of stars. There weren't any Muggle towns to cloud the view with lights.

An explosion and a flash of green light made me turn. Green light? Avada Kedavra! Oh Christ!

I turned to see what was going on and felt myself freeze. They were levitating Muggles! Oh, boy, that was bad that was. And not only that, they were in full Death Eater regalia. How thick can you get? That's my father, couple of drinks and he loses all sense. 

Part of me wanted to stop them, but the other part didn't want to get too close to the mob. Besides, Mother was expecting me to obey her, so I turned on my heel and ran into the woods. Others were joining me, more panicky, screaming. Older kids leading younger ones, people moving in groups; visible fear. I should have fed off it, loved it, a Malfoy enjoys that sort of thing after all. Instead, I just felt sick, the fear hitting me like a solid wall of cold. Time to flick the little switch that turned off my Empath abilities.

This is probably the most annoying thing about my life, being an Empath. I can sense emotions, however weak they may be, and it's enough to drive me nuts at times. Can you imagine what it's like for me at Hogwarts? All those teenage emotions, all going awry, and I have to cope with it as it hits me. I've only recently figured out how to shut this little Sixth Sense of mine off; before that I was driven round the bend by it. I still am at times, when I'm not concentrating.

I leant against a tree that was just on the edge of the forest, looking out over the top of some bushes at the camp site. More flashes of green from the Pretty Little Light Show, and I folded my arms over my chest and tried to look like Bad Arse Draco Malfoy. Riiiiight.

I heard a thud, an "ow" and then Granger's voice rang out. Now, don't get me wrong, Granger's voice is fine until she panics or loses her temper, then she starts hitting notes only dogs can hear. 

"What happened?" Granger squealed; my poor ears! "Ron, where are you? Oh, this is stupid - _Lumos_!"

A beam of light lanced out, falling across Weasley's prone form on the forest floor. Granger had her wand out and Potter was looking down at Weasley. Might as well make my presence known.

"Well, with feet that size, hard not to," I drawled. I've had to work really hard on that drawl. If you're not careful you sound like a villain in a dodgy Western film, and I do not want to sound like my next words will be 'this town ain't big enough for the both of us'.

I got identical Evils from the Terrific Trio. Weasley told me to "f**k off". Isn't he charming, boys and girls? Please notice how I, Draco Malfoy, dislike swearing...well, most of the time.

"Language, Weasley," I reprimanded him. "Hadn't you better be hurrying along now? You wouldn't like_ her _spotted, would you?"

Subtext: drunken Death Eaters + Harry Potter + a Muggle-born Granger = lots of pain and trouble for Granger and Potter. Why didn't I turn the subtext into the text? Because there wasn't any point, they wouldn't believe me if I was actually, shock horror, nice to them, now would they? The fact that I didn't particularly want them to get hurt wouldn't enter their heads. I know I'm malicious and sarcastic, but I am not that evil and twisted.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Granger snapped at me, hands on her hips. You'd've thought that she'd recognise a subtext, but noooo.

"Granger, they're after _Muggles_," I said; could I drop a broader hint? "D'you want to be showing off your knickers in mid-air?" Ew, horrible horrible mental picture! "Because if you do, hang around...they're moving this way, and it would give us all a laugh."

Subtext: it wouldn't give me a laugh, only my father and his thick as shit friends, so run, run _now_!

"Hermione's a witch!" Potter damn near snarled at me. He always gets more stressed for his friends than for himself. Sweet.

"Have it your own way, Potter," I said, malicious grin in place. "If you think they can't spot a Mudblood, stay where you are."

They can't spot Mudbloods, but my father knows Granger's one so her chances of escape were slim to none.

"You watch your mouth!" Weasley hollered. Ooh, does he fancy Granger? My Sixth Sense told me so.

"Never mind, Ron," Granger said, grabbing Weasley to stop him stepping towards me. I'm actually glad she did that - Weasley has four inches and at least a stone on me.

A distraction was caused by an explosion from the Pretty Little Light Show. A pretty loud explosion. Lots of screaming greeted it. I couldn't help but laugh.

"Scare easily, don't they?" I mean, come on, it was an explosion, it was far away, why panic? I turned back to Weasley, "I suppose your daddy told you all to hide." Least Mr Weasley has sense! "What's he up to - trying to rescue the Muggles?" More than likely, Mr Weasley has sense and a conscience. It must be nice to have a father you can actually respect.

"Where're your parents?" Potter asked me, giving me a Death Glare. "Out there wearing masks, are they?" 

Three things: 1) he's fit normally, and even fitter when he gets stressed; 2) my mother would never wear a mask, not just because she isn't a Death Eater but because she's somewhat vain; and 3) did Potter really expect me to answer that? Did he think I was going to say "oh, yes, Potter, please, dob my daddy up"?

"Well...if they were, I wouldn't be likely to tell you, would I, Potter?" And if you couldn't see that you're thicker than I thought. Proof you can't have beauty and brains...unless you're me!

"Oh, come on," said Granger, giving me a look which said 'you're no higher up than a slug in my opinion and I'd just love to squish you', "let's go find the others."

I always have to have the last word, so, "keep that big bushy head down, Granger."

"Come on," said Granger. Guess she's self conscious about her hair. Ah well.

I scowled after them. They have such high opinions of me that I feel flattered. Yeah, right. God, why did they have to hate me so much? Oh, I know, because I've made their lives hell for the past three years! Correct!

I'm having a conversation with myself! Could I be more schizophrenic?

Well, who else do I have? Maybe if I'd been in Gryffindor...nah, that'd never happen. Malfoys go into Slytherin, that's the way things are, have been and always will be. No getting out of it. If I have kids, they'll go into Slyther...if I have kids? That's not likely!

In case you couldn't tell from the way I'm lusting after a certain green eyed boy, I have serious doubts as to my sexuality. As in, I'm most likely gay and won't Lucius be happy to hear that? No Malfoy heir for him!

I sighed, sinking to the floor and hugging my knees, making myself as small as possible. It helps that I'm small to begin with: about 5'3" and just under eight stone. Very easy to pick up and carry somewhere, which is not a pleasant thought when I think about some of Lucius' friends and the way they look at me sometimes. 

My life's crap, huh? Absolute and complete crap.

I was just thinking this when a green light brighter than any other appeared. It was above me, not in the camp site, and for a moment I was reminded of those Muggle films where aliens appear (there's a cinema near my home and I get bored during the holidays) and everyone turns slowly to stare, like in _Independence Day_. I got to my feet, peering upwards, as the forest around me erupted in screams and yells of sheer panic.

It was the Dark Mark.

It was coming from where Harry and his friends had gone.

For a second I froze, then I set off at a run. Shitshitshit, the Dark Mark, Voldemort, shitshitshit!

After I'd been running for about half a minute I realised that I was being incredibly stupid. Say it was Voldemort and he had just killed Harry, what was I going to do about it? Fight him? Yeah, that might just make Voldemort kill himself laughing, but that wasn't very likely. 

I stopped. I was being an idiot, and I try to avoid that if I can. 

I heard voices up ahead and approached, keeping to the shadows and peering out through the trees. There were loads of Ministry officials there, and the Terrific Trio were standing in a little group, scared out of their wits but alive. Phew, big sigh of relief.

The events that unfolded were...interesting. Someone had fired the Dark Mark into the air, the Trio didn't know who. A house elf was accused, a house elf that belongs to Bartemius Crouch Sr of all people. Old Barty promptly flipped his lid and I think he was dangerously close to bitch slapping Amos Diggory, which, though it would have amused me, wouldn't do much for his reputation, though admittedly his reputation isn't 100% clean after what his son did years ago. Poor Longbottom...

Poor Longbottom? I've been lusting after Potter too long, I'm even starting to pick up that weird thing called 'compassion', which I shouldn't really possess. 'Compassionate' and 'Malfoy' do not belong in the same sentence. The words that belong in the same sentence as 'Malfoy' are 'evil', 'scheming', 'evil', 'twisted', 'evil', 'I'd like to kill that bastard' and 'evil'. I've got a lot to live up to, I've only just reached the level of 'he's an evil, malicious, sarcastic, arrogant prat'; Lucius must be so disappointed in me.

This doesn't have much relevance to what's going on, does it? Well, it does: Lucius will expect me to be spying for him and he's going to have a field day with this. 

I turned back, heading for the camp site, the hysteria of my mother and the calm questions from Lucius. Only, when I got back, it was like I'd walked into a parallel universe or something: Lucius was near hysterical and Mother was the calm one. O-kaaaaaaaay.

"Draco, where have you been?" Mother asked me as she poured Lucius a brandy. Was that sensible? Then again, maybe the shock had sobered him up completely; he'd obviously had a big shock and than can sober up anyone. And now he needed brandy to him help recover from the sobering shock. Ah, confusion.

"In the forest, like you told me," I replied, taking my coat off and draping it over a chair. I sat down and pulled my boots off, standing them up beside my chair. I felt like throwing them into my room, but knew Mother wouldn't approve because she has this weird thing with tidiness.

"Did you see him?" Lucius demanded, knocking back the brandy. Oh dear.

"Him who?"

"The Dark Lord," Lucius hissed, as if afraid of the name. Would somebody please cue the music for _The Twilight Zone_?

"No," I said. "Why would he be there?"

"Well, who fired the Dark Mark?"

"I don't know," I said, honestly. "A house elf called Winky was accused, but I somehow can't see a house elf firing the Dark Mark."

"Then it was him," Lucius said, his hand shaking as he cradled the shot glass. "He's back."

"Aren't you happy?" I said. You'd think he would be. I always imagined my father greeting the news of Voldemort's return with a 'woo-hoo, let's party, kill a few Muggles while we're at it'. Apparently not though.

"Happy? Why would I be happy? He's going to hurt me!"

"Why?"

"Because I abandoned him," Lucius muttered, more to himself than anyone else. "I should have tried to help him, but I didn't. I should have looked for him, but I didn't. I should have...should have...bloody James Potter, making my life hell as always."

I blinked. If my knowledge of Who's Who in the wizarding world is correct, James Potter is Harry's father and he was at school with my father. Small world, isn't it? But, what did he have to do with it? Shouldn't it be _ Harry_ Lucius hates? After all, Harry caused Voldemort's downfall, surely he'd be more hated than his father. Unless...well, what if Voldemort had to kill James and Harry, but he couldn't kill Harry. Maybe it's something about James that made Voldemort want to kill the Potters, so James would be to blame for Voldemort going there in the first place, therefore Lucius would blame James. Hmm, something to ponder over, if I can make it into a more coherent line of argument.

"Draco?" Mother waved her hand in front of my eyes, and I realised I'd been staring into space. "I think you should go back to bed, get some sleep."

"OK," I said. She kissed me on the cheek and gave me a brief hug, which was surprising. I guess she was glad that I'm alive. 

My last glimpse of my parents before I shut the door to my room was of Mother leaning against the kitchen counter, watching as Lucius knocked back some more brandy then went looking in the drinks' cabinet for something. I think I heard him mutter "vodka" but I was too tired to hear properly. For once, I wanted to go to bed, and I just dropped onto the covers and fell asleep.

~~~~~

The rest of the holidays were Hell. My holidays are never wonderful, what with Mother having mini nervous break downs as Lucius locks himself away in his study and messes with Dark Arts stuff and plots world domination. At least, that's what I figure he's doing. For all I know, he could lead an interesting double life as a cross dresser or something, but I doubt it. 

What's scary is that I'd actually prefer it if my father called himself Sheila at the weekends than if he was doing Dark Magic. It would be creepy, it would be grotesque and it would mean that he was a huge hypocrite, but at least I wouldn't permanently worry that Voldemort was going to turn up for tea and biscuits and a little chat about The Top 50 Ways To Kill Harry Potter one day. 

Anyway, these holidays were a special species of torment. I'd thought I'd seen Hell before, but now I've discovered that that was just purgatory. I am now in Hell and I want out, right now.

Usually, I'd escape to the local Muggle town. Bet that's a difficult image for you to come to terms with, huh? Draco Malfoy in a Muggle town and, oh, look, he isn't killing and maiming. No, he's going in the shops and to the cinema and, oh, is that a Muggle boy he's talking to? I believe it is.

The Muggle boy? Sam, he's a friend. He thinks I go to a posh boarding school like Eton, he doesn't know about Hogwarts (natch) and he's always willing to hang out with me during the holidays. He's, well, he's gay and the first person I ever kissed, though I don't like him as much as I like Harry and he knows it. I hope Lucius never finds out that Sam and I got in with each other; he thinks I'm just friends with him because I'm spying, doing reconnaissance, a getting-to-know-thy-enemy thing if you will. Well, I do know the enemy, just a bit more intimately than he'd like. I wonder what he'd find worse: that I'm gay, that I spent a good part of one afternoon rolling about on a settee with my tongue down a Muggle boy's throat or that I'm in love with Harry Potter. I think I'll tell him in that order, watch as his fury rises and he eventually explodes like a rocket and goes through the roof, hopefully to end up flying into the sun and never returning. It would certainly make my life easier.

This holiday, however, I haven't been able to leave the house, let alone visit the town or Sam. Lucius is going mad, wandering around the house, checking the doors and windows. I think he thinks Voldemort's back and out to get him. He evidently thinks that Mother and I are on Voldie's hit list because we're not allowed out of the house. Or maybe he's afraid that we'll meet Voldie and hand Lucius over to him. I wouldn't do that: I hate Lucius and sometimes I want to kick his head in, but he is my father and handing him over to a pissed off Voldemort is not something I'd ever do.

So, I've been spending my days in my room. I have a good collection of books - wizarding and Muggle - and, horror of horrors, homework to do. I swear, the teachers don't understand the meaning of the word 'holiday' but I guess all students feel like that, whichever school they go to. It's a universal thing: teachers are evil and students must put up with it. But some day, there will be a revolution! Can you hear the students sing, singing a song of angry...students, it is the music of a people who will not be slaves to books again!

And now I'm mangling _Les Miserables_. Mother wouldn't be happy, she loves that musical. See, Muggle culture in the Malfoy home! Wow.

Sigh. My life sucks. But, I go back to Hogwarts tomorrow, which is great! I'll finally be free! Well, as free as I can be at Hogwarts. And I'll get to see Harry again! This year I'll tell him how I feel...yeah, right, I made that promise last year and what did I do? Tried to get Hagrid - whom Harry loves like a, well, not a surrogate father - but an uncle at least, sacked and grassed Harry up to Snape, nearly resulting in his expulsion. I shouldn't've done that, I know, but he threw mud at me! And now I sound like a whiny four-year-old...

How did I realise I love Harry? Well, it was when I was getting in with Sam, actually. He's two years older than me, so he was fifteen and I was thirteen and if you think that's too young for a proper first kiss then tough. I've heard of people losing their virginity at twelve...hell, I've heard of girls becoming mothers at twelve, which is scary. And it was just a kiss, between me and Sam, he didn't try to take it further. Yet, even so, I realised then that I liked Harry more than I liked Sam, and that I'd much rather I was with Harry than Sam. I told him this and he understood: he actually felt the same about another boy, but he liked me too and wanted to 'give it a go' as he put it. I would have been offended if I hadn't felt the same.

So, I've known for a year that I fancy Harry Potter, and, in my weird teenage way, I think I love him, as much as a fourteen-year-old boy can love anyone, but how am I going to tell him? And how am I going to cope this year, if Voldemort's back?

Reviews, please? 


	2. Aboard the Hogwarts Express

_Sorry this took me so long to write, I left the HP fandom for a bit and spent a while in the LOTR one. Now I am back in the HP with a vengeance, kind of. Read a lot of Harry/Draco slash anyway. And a bit of James/Sirius...like that pairing, must write a fic for it, after I finish this of course *guilty grin*. _

WARNINGS: This story contains SLASH! As in, male/male, boy/boy relationships. Will later develop into Draco/Harry slash, at the moment its just building up to it. This fic also tells the story of Goblet of Fire_ from Draco's POV, so it contains spoilers for that book. If you haven't read it and don't want the plot ruined, don't read this. _

DISCLAIMERS: I don't own Harry Potter or any of the characters. I'd love to own Draco Malfoy, but I don't so I'm just messing with his head for a bit. J K Rowling created all of the wonderful characters, they're hers, Bloomsbury published my books (I'm British) though I guess if you're American you own the ones published by Scholastic; Bloomsbury and Scholastic own the books, I don't. And I mustn't forget *cough*greedy*cough* Warner Bros., who will undoubtedly be extremely pissed off with me for writing HP slash. Fine, be pissed off, just bear in mind that I'm a poor student, suing me will get you nowhere. 

Eurgh, I hate mornings. Who invented them anyway? They're pointless! And alarm clocks, those are creations of evil as well! The only thing worse than waking up at home on the days I have to return to Hogwarts - when I have to wake up EARLY and actually get out of bed before ten o'clock - is waking up at Hogwarts, where I have to get up and I have to eat breakfast in case the teachers think I'm anorexic or something. I'm not starving myself or anything, I just don't eat in the morning, but at Hogwarts I have to force down two pieces of toast. Gah, feel awful afterwards. All I need is coffee, lots of coffee, to keep me going. 

Mother knows this, fortunately, so she just makes sure that, on the Evil Last Day of the Holidays, there's lots of food in my backpack for me to eat on the train and that there's a lot of coffee in the kitchen in the morning. I got through four cups of the stuff this morning; I hope I don't get hyper on the train. 

The journey to King's Cross was fun. Father didn't want to leave the house and Mother felt that leaving him home alone wasn't a good idea, so I had to go to King's Cross on my own, alone in the old Rolls Royce we use for transportation in the Muggle world. I sat in the back, huddled up and reading The Lord of the Rings for the hundredth time. I like that book, even if Tolkien did get a few things wrong, it's still great. 

I'd just got to the Mines of Moria when we reached King's Cross, which was annoying as that's my favourite bit. I grumbled inwardly as I bookmarked my page, shoved the book into my rucksack and scrambled out of the car, thanking the driver (in a nasty, superior way of course) as I took the loaded trolley from him. I had my trunk and owl cage, minus owl, and I must've looked weird but I didn't really care. I was used to it by now. 

I was making my way to Platfrom 9 3/4 when I noticed a first year standing near Platform 10, looking scared and confused. No parents. Huh. 

"Want a hand?" I asked. "Getting onto the platform I mean." 

"Yes, please," she said. "My parents couldn't make it here, they've got important Ministry business." 

"They do?" 

"Yes, they're going nuts there, have been ever since the Dark Mark appeared." 

"Really?" I didn't know. Father's been so isolationist recently that he hasn't even bothered keeping in contact with Cornelius Fudge. I'm actually grateful for this: what I've heard of Fudge makes me want to storm into his office and hit him over the head with something to make him realise how stupid he really is. 

"Yes, really," the girl chirped, breaking me out of my reverie of what I'd like to do to Fudge. "I'm Eleanor Brandstone, who are you?" 

"Malfoy, Draco Malfoy," I said automatically. Her eyes bugged a little and she gazed up at me in something akin to awe. 

"Really? But, you look so nice," she said. "And I'd heard that the Malfoys were...oops!" 

"That we're what?" I asked, knowing the answer was most likely 'the most evil people on the planet after You-Know-Who'. 

"Very powerful," Eleanor gabbled. "Yeah, that's it." 

"Uh-huh," I said. I lead her over to the barrier between Platforms Nine and Ten. She stopped beside me, looking up at me in confusion. 

"You have to walk through the barrier," I told her. "Just run at it and you'll go through." 

"Ooookay," she said, looking nervous. She gripped her trolley tightly, aimed it at the barrier and ran. She broke through the barrier fine, reaching Platform 9 3/4 OK. Hey, I just helped someone! Go me. 

I followed her and helped her get her trunk on the train, then left her to the tender mercies of her fellow First Years, who were all panicky and nervous. Was I ever like that? Did I spend my first journey to Hogwarts trying not to throw up from the horror of it all? I know I didn't, because I couldn't. Lucius would have slaughtered me if he ever found out, but I'd've died of embarrassment first so his efforts would be wasted. No, my first journey to Hogwarts involved me acting all superior then being turned down by Harry Potter. How was I to know the scrawny little kid in Madam Malkin's was The Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived Then Decided to Dance With Death in the Form of Voldemort? If I'd known, I would've been a bit nicer to him in the shop, but noooo, I had to run my mouth off. Stupid mouth, should have it sewn up! 

Anyway, I found a compartment for myself, Crabbe and Goyle, and sat down in a corner, legs propped up on the opposite seat as I returned to my book. Just getting to the bit with the Balrog when... 

"DRACO! Oh, you're here!" 

I nearly fell off of my seat in shock. It was Pansy, she'd found me! She was standing in the compartment doorway, smiling and looking as if it was only severe self-control that kept her from flinging herself on me. God bless her self-control. 

There are many reasons why I dislike Pansy, the first of which is: she's STALKING me! She's always there, wherever I turn, I can't escape. It wouldn't be so bad if it weren't for Pansy herself. I guess always having an intelligent, articulate, sweet girl following you would be OK, but this is Pansy! She's the most malicious little bitch I've ever met, she thinks everything should just happen for her, she always wants her own way and her voice...I shudder whenever I hear her voice. If Granger hits high notes when she stresses, Pansy hits them all the time and it's awful. I don't know how my eardrums have lasted so long, or how I didn't kill her last year when I was in the Hospital Wing with my "injured" arm and she visited me every day, brimming with asinine information and spiteful comments about Hagrid, Potter & Co. 

"Hello Pansy," I said, fixing my best smile on my face. It was like flicking a switch on my face: I just lit up, all warm and friendly and focussed solely on her. Pretty stupid to do this, it only encourages her, but Lucius wants me to be friends with the Little Bitch Troll From Hell, so I have to be. 

"It's so good to see you again," she simpered. 

"You too," I lied through my teeth. 

"Aren't you going to hug me?" she said, looking tearful. Sighing inwardly, I bookmarked my page again, got to my feet and gave her the quickest hug ever. She was positively delighted by the meagre contact, which made me very worried for my safety. 

"What are you reading?" she asked, picking up Lord of the Rings. "This is a Muggle book, isn't it?" 

"It's interesting," I said. "Shows how Muggles think. Their ideas on Elves, for example, are so wrong it makes me laugh. And as for their portrayal of Dwarves...ha!" 

"Of course, I knew you'd never like anything Muggle," said Pansy, all smug and superior smiles. One of these days I'm going to throw something heavy at her face, see if she can be smug then! 

My violent thoughts drew to a complete halt as I looked out of the train window and saw...Harry. Yay! Ick, sound completely lovesick and pathetic but he's so nice! Consider me swooning. 

"Oh, there's Potter," Pansy spat. "With his pathetic substitute for a family. Just think Draco, he could have been your friend and stayed with you for the holidays, instead he got the Weasleys." 

"Do you really think I'd want Harry Potter in my home?" I said angrily. Oh God, I would, but I could hardly tell Pansy that. And, besides, if I ever did manage to get Harry to go to my house voluntarily, Lucius would try to attack him. Although, at the moment, the attack would probably involve a lot of slurred swearing and hexes accompanied with drunken swaying and an attempt to do spells with a wooden spoon because Lucius had misplaced his wand. That's my father, ladies and gentlemen. 

"Of course not," said Pansy hastily. "I was merely pointing out that he had a chance at your friendship but he picked Weasley instead." 

Did she have to keep rubbing it in? 

"And that Mudblood Granger's as well," I commented. "Still, I s'pose that's just so he can copy homework off her." 

"I'm sure she copies from somewhere," said Pansy. "No one can possibly be that clever!" 

"Pansy, Granger's a teacher's pet but she isn't a cheat," I said. "Unlike some people." 

I gave her a look and she had the decency (Pansy? Decency?) to blush. She opened and closed her mouth a few times, then fell silent, giving me the chance to ogle Harry. He looked really happy, standing there with the Weasleys. He's perfect. Christ, I'm lovesick. 

"I suppose he'll be entering the Triwizard Tournament," Pansy said. 

"Huh?" I'm so eloquent sometimes I startle myself. 

"Potter, the Tournament, he always does like glory," said Pansy. "Oh, Draco, you should go in for it." 

Her admiration hit me like a wave. Ow! That sounds conceited, I know, but Pansy admires and adores me and it scares the hell out of me. It's just a stupid teenage crush, but WHAT a crush. If only it wasn't Pansy! 

Fortunately, Crabbe and Goyle turned up at that moment. They instantly came to my rescue, demanding my help in finding the refreshments trolley. I bid a hasty goodbye to Pansy and left with them. 

"Thanks so much, guys," I said. "Eek, the leech attacks again." 

"Why don't you just tell her you don't like her, Draco?" said Goyle. 

"I don't want to hurt her feelings," I said. "And, besides, would you want Pansy and her friends ganging up on you?" 

They both blanched at the thought. A pack of annoyed teenage girls is about the scariest thing I can think of. Even Voldemort would back down if faced by Pansy and her friends in Full Malicious Gossip Mode (tm). 

"Did you have good holidays?" I asked. 

"Yes, the Quidditch World Cup was something, huh? That Viktor Krum," said Goyle. 

"Is the best Seeker on the planet," said Crabbe. "Even better than Potter." 

"Better than me?" I asked, making my voice as dangerous as possible. I felt a cold wave of fear wash over me. They'd had it put into them from a young age that annoying a Malfoy was a bad idea. 

"Of course not -" 

"You're the best Draco -" 

I couldn't help it, I laughed. 

"It's cool, I know there's no way in hell I could ever be as good as Krum!" I said. 

"You're better than Potter though," Crabbe said loyally, clapping me on the back and almost sending me flying. I've seen Hagrid do that to Harry, and I always sympathised. Being small but having friends who are bigger and stronger than you but don't realise that they're bigger and stronger than you has its disadvantages. 

"Where does Krum go to school?" Goyle said, musing. "I'd really like to meet him." 

"Durmstrang," I said promptly. Then I decided that it was time to put the old Nasty Malfoy Mask back on and launched into a tirade, "Father actually considered sending me to Durmstrang rather than Hogwarts, you know. He knows the Headmaster, you see. Well, you know his opinion of Dumbledore - the man's such a Mudblood-lover - and Durmstrang doesn't admit that sort of riff-raff. But Mother didn't like the idea of me going to school so far away. Father says Durmstrang takes a far more sensible line than Hogwarts about the Dark Arts. Durmstrang students actually learn them, not just the defence rubbish we do." 

A compartment door nearby slid shut and we all stopped to look. Weasley, Granger and Harry were inside. I gave Harry my best glare; he wasn't looking at me but it was an excuse to look at him. 

"That was rude," said Crabbe. 

"What else do you expect from a Mudblood?" I said. "Come on, lets find food or something." 

Crabbe, Goyle and I found the trolley and bought some food, then returned to our compartment, where Pansy and some of her friends were gathered. They all fawned over me, ignoring Crabbe and Goyle. Crabbe was blatantly ogling Sally-Anne Lestat, but she didn't notice. I was going to have play matchmaker, I really was. 

Eventually, sitting there got to be a bit too much like being stuck in a chicken coop with all the hens cackling at top volume, so I excused myself again. Crabbe and Goyle followed, also glad of the chance to escape, albeit briefly. Without consciously realising I was doing it, I made my way to Harry's compartment. Don't ask me what the hell I was planning to do, maybe storm in and fling myself on him, maybe slag him off - again - I just found myself standing outside. The door was ajar, and I could see Longbottom, Thomas and Finnigan inside; one of them must have left the door open. Weasley was talking. Subject: Quidditch World Cup. Opportunity his speech provided me with to insult him: Excellent. 

"We were in the Top Box," Weasley said, insanely proud with this achievement. I nodded to Crabbe and Goyle, then slid the compartment door open and stepped over the threshold. 

"For the first and last time in your life, Weasley," I drawled. 

The Gryffindors' heads whipped round and I was hit by not only evils but six separate feelings of hatred. It really is nice to be popular with my fellow students. 

"Don't remember asking you to join us, Malfoy," said Harry. He spoke! He spoke to me, hurrah! He also felt nothing but loathing for me. Woo hoo, the boy I fancy hates me. Is that it? Isn't there anything else? 

My Empath skills are weird. I haven't told anyone else about them, as they can be used for Dark Magic. Imagine, being able to know exactly what will cause someone the most pain, what it is they care about the most, just so you can take it away from them...or threaten to take it away if they won't do as you say. 

Anyway, I can sense what anyone else is feeling. Surface feelings I get without even trying, but if someone's trying to hide something I have to look for it. I send out, I dunno, I guess its like a tendril of magic that's completely invisible but which I can sense. I sent one out at Harry now, hunting desperately for any sign of anything other than hatred. I found pity. He PITIED me?!?!? Why? Ooh, this makes me so stressed...what's that? 

I stepped forward, eyes fixed on the Thing draped over a bird cage, saying "Weasley...what is that?" as loudly as I could. Weasley tried to grab the Thing but I got there first, holding it up. At first I thought it was an old curtain, acting as a cover for his owl's cage. Then I thought it was a dress. Then I realised what it was. Dress robes! 

"Look at this!" I crowed. "Weasley, you weren't thinking of wearing these, were you? I mean - they were very fashionable in about 1890..." 

"Eat dung, Malfoy," Weasley said, blushing like a beacon as he snatched the robes back. He was incredibly humiliated, and Granger being there only made it worse for him. Ah well, maybe she'd be nice and show him lots of sympathy and TLC. 

I looked round at them all, my eyes resting on Harry. What Pansy said to me came back to me, and I couldn't resist taunting him, just to see him get stressed, because he's so lovely when he's stressed. 

But if you really want to get Harry mad, attack his friends. 

"So...going to enter, Weasley? Going to try and bring a bit of glory to the family name? There's money involved as well you know...you'd be able to afford some decent robes if you won..." 

"What are you talking about?" Weasley snapped, looking slightly homicidal. 

"_Are you going to enter_?" I turned to Harry, giving him a superior look that I just knew would piss him off. "I suppose _you_ will, Potter? You never miss a chance to show off, do you?" 

Harry was also looking homicidal. 

"Either explain what you're on about or go away, Malfoy," Granger said. She's one of the best when it comes to knock backs, she can act as if nothing bothers her and there are times when I have to search for a creative retort for her; by 'creative' I mean something other than 'Mudblood'. 

I grinned like a maniac; they didn't know! Oh, this gave me such an opportunity to get Harry mad. 

"Dont' tell me you don't know?" I crowed. "You've got a father and a brother at the Ministry and you don't even _know_? My God, _my_ father told me about it ages ago...heard it from Cornelius Fudge. But, then, Father's always associated with the top people at the Ministry...maybe your father's too junior to know about it, Weasley...yes...they probably don't talk about important stuff in front of him..." 

I did Evil Laugh No. 2 and left, shooting one last glance at Harry. Weasley looked ready to kill me with his bare hands, and I hadn't gone three steps down the corridor when there was a loud bang and a crash: Weasley had slammed the door closed with such force that the glass had cracked. Yikes, I'd really got to him! Feel oddly proud. 

"Nice on Draco," Crabbe muttered. 

"Yeah, I know," I said smugly. 

"Not _Weasley_," Goyle said. "_Potter_. How are you ever gonna pull him if you act like that towards him and his friends." 

I blinked, momentarily speechless. For some reason, the words 'oh crap' kept flashing repeatedly in my brain. 7nbsp;I blinked again then managed to get out, "what're you two talking about?" 

"Please, Draco, we're your best friends," said Crabbe. 

"We see right through you," concluded Goyle. 

"And we know you want Potter - " 

"As do Blaise and Brage [1] - " 

"And we're gonna make sure you get him - " 

"Although admittedly we'll have to teach you how to be nice to him - " 

"Which'll take a mircale - " 

"But we want what's best for you - " 

"_I_ want what's best for you," concluded Crabbe, "Greg here wants Pansy." 

"I do not!" 

"Do too!" 

"Do not!" 

They continued like this for a while, as I just stood there in stunned silence. They knew, they _knew_ I was gay and fancied Harry. And here I was thinking I was so brilliant and subtle. Oh God the floor's opening and swallowing me up, my life is over. 

"Guys," I said shakily, "are you _really_ OK with this?" 

"Of course," they said in unison, Crabbe smacking me on the back again. I smiled weakly; there was good and bad to this. 

I'd just reached this conclusion when the train stopped: we'd reached Hogwarts. 

__

[1] Brage is the fifth member of the Slytherin dormitory. I just figured that there'd be five boys and five girls in each year in each House, and invented the fifth for Slytherin. He'll be in it a bit later (and Blaise is a boy in this story). 

I think I'm gonna do this fic book chapter by book chapter, it'll be easier and hopefully faster (notice use of 'hopefully'). 

To conclude: please review. 


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